Growing Up
by fugug
Summary: He's a few years older, a few years wiser. He's had extraordinary experiences that few can relate to and despite it all he's come out of it better than he'd ever imagine. Joe Kido is a survivor, but no man is an island and as he reflects on his remarkable achievements, he's mostly thankful of his remarkable relationship with the love of his life. Joe/Matt, Slash, ShounenAi


Title: Growing Up

Author: Fugug

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Digimon. Story for entertainment purpose only. Getting no money from it.

Warning: SAP, Joe pov, ooc, mild angst

Pairing: Matt/Joe

Growing Up

(jan-feb 04)

Here I am sitting in my living room. The sofa is all soft and warm because of the afternoon sun rays falling from the panoramic window of the condo. Everywhere the light can reach, it is painted in temperate orange shade. It contrasts with the darker brown and plain black shades where the sun cannot reach. Beside me, almost on my laps, my cat lolls on his back; his head thrown back and we are quietly engaging in a duel of stares.

Pooka (I wasn't the one to name him, please!) has bright blue eyes…and every time I miss him, I just have to look at Pooka's eyes to remind myself of my Matt. That thought brings a smile to me; why am I being so contemplative anyways…he is MY Matt and I can't help feeling something warm growing inside my chest (not that I would ever confess to him to what intensity my emotions can go for him)…being contemplative because he's been away for too long…

I've changed since our adventures in the Digital world, because of him, because of me. I would like to think that I have for the better. Ironically, I don't remember much of these times, what I do know for sure nowadays about the Digiwars mainly have to do with Matt. He's the one, who tells me how it was like, how I was like, Matt has an incredibly good memory or I'm incredibly stupid. All my personal memories of this time are shady at best, it's like if you were looking through a smoky mirror surrounded by heavy darkness and where images are partially trimmed and shown in primary colors, usually black, white and shades of gray. I remember the emotions of inadequacy I felt at the time, of rejection, of physical pain, of despair, of anger, of rage…Why couldn't they see me? I was part of the team, I wasn't expendable I was one of the destined too, but…I know, I knew it was selfish of me to try and make them look when they didn't want to look- little did I know that there was somebody looking, a certain blonde rebel most precisely. Did they ever wonder why I was being such pest about security and prudence? I sigh, it's always hard to accept the truth, face the facts as they are. I didn't want them to get hurt, because I knew that I would sacrifice what I could to save them (I am the oldest after all); I didn't want to get hurt because I knew that I would be left behind.

I let out a puff of air and get up berating myself for my morose mood. My movements stir Pooka who'd fallen asleep head on my lap. I walk to the kitchen and start preparing dinner. I've been doing it for one for far too long, having only his overseas calls, the soothing tenor of his voice to mend the black whole that's been growing inside my chest every night I found myself alone in bed.

I've always been introspective. It is my analytic mind that enabled me to go through the hardships. I say analytic, but not in the same way as Izzy mind you, he decodes and abstracts, escapes through the fascinating (according to him) process of equation. I, on the other hand analyze to reconstruct the whole picture and I like to also take in consideration how the detail influences the whole and its space, then I apply the entity to my space to best know how to deal with it, if dealing should be needed. In this way, I'm still the same as I was before, I like to be prepared and have many possibilities, plans to fall back on. We all have different ways to cope, where Matt screamed at the injustice of it all I observed and tried to understand later when I could find my self securely enclosed in a dark little place (of my mind). My nature is to be introspective and when you have nothing to keep your head afloat you can drown in the contemplation of the riverbed, going as far as covering yourself with its murky coat.

During the time the second Digidestined came with Tai's sister I was slowly falling asleep in my "bed". The long hair, the glasses (when I could have gotten contacts instead…what a horrifying experience that was!), the sobriety were manifestations of my shell thickening. I was battling depression. Yes battling, I am a quiet and calm person, my favorite sound after Matt's heartbeat being the sound of silence, but I am stubborn and can be really fierce when I want to. Anyways, depression was gnawing at my heart and soul. I felt stifled, I didn't know myself, and I was losing myself in the images and roles other people were imposing on me. I can shamefully acknowledge that I didn't have much of a personality. But I was trying, although "generic" my outer appearance was better than it could have been, I had made an effort to look like everybody else…Wasn't yet at the stage were I understood that I didn't have to, I could just be myself. My father wanted me to follow in his steps and become a doctor, not much of a problem…I actually like science and biology, true there was the problem of my being queasy to the sight of blood, but (and I still feel some kind of thrill from the thought of it) once I put surgery in the perspective with which I analyze everything, once I passed over the cover of the goriness…so much blood, I was able to enjoy it quite enough. Concretely, I was concretely seeing a metaphor of how I thought the world worked. Many parts, working together to keep the whole together, one part failed and the whole suffered, when it suffered it influence the space in which it lived. Not surprising that I branched into general surgery, my father was surprised (thought I'd go into general medicine and my friends minds were boggled). But as fascinating as that was, I felt fazed out. It wasn't something I had chosen and I was somewhat irritated that I had never had the choice of contemplating something else. I came to realize that as I saw the direction my friends were going, the relative liberty they had to choose their future and the support they got from their parents. But there was the guilt of disappointing my father, his hopes and dreams and medicine wasn't so bad. At the same time we had to go back to all that Digital World fiasco with the second generation that was much greater in number that we had ever been. They needed us and I wanted them to succeed because even thought I don't remember much of my experiences, they did help to forge me into the man I am know and Gommamon was the perfect counterpart. We argued, we disagreed and I finally understood that I did count for somebody in this godforsaken world; I counted for him. I miss him…

The gist of it is that I focused on helping others all that I could because I found it my duty and that is the kind of friend I am and I ended up neglecting myself. I had no outlet, like Matt had with his Teenage Wolves, I was going to explode and I didn't know if I would be able to mend myself after. Almost didn't make it, it turned out. I ended up falling sick, physically. Had to be hospitalized. I have never more hated the fact that I haven't grown out of my asthma then I did at that time. Matt was beside himself, we had already become good friends at the time. That's when our relationship evolved to love. While I was wallowing in depression induced self-pity and…letting myself go…Matt…God I need to see him now! Right now! 4 months is way too long, next time I'm traveling with him.

Matt brought me back. He helped me save my soul and the rest followed. He also gave our friends a good tongue lashing on my behalf, to this day they wont tell me what he said. Now I laugh but at the time I was appalled, they hadn't done anything (maybe that is the problem, no, don't think about that), I was the one who hadn't done anything. I was following everybody else and like everybody else I was waiting for someone to save me while all along I could have saved myself. With Matt I got both. He threw me the rope and let me climb on my own, but was always there to help me back on my feet if I tripped.

The first thing I did after my convalescence was to quit med school. Still makes me nervous and I swallow hard as I get the rose beef out of the oven. Already the table is set, for two: rose beef; sweet potatoes and noodles, just need to do the salad. I put the meat on the table and get my vegetables from the fridge. He hates tomatoes but loves broccoli and Brussels sprouts, go figure.

My father was beside himself and I felt incredible guilt for crushing the family like so, but I vowed to repay every cent he put into my aborted education, for the little that it'll do, for he will forever be disappointed by the bigger blow of learning that I was bisexual and in love with Matt. I have to put down the knife or else I might cut of a finger, my hands are shaking so much. Matt's band was/ is doing well and we moved to Los Angeles. I still haven't quite established myself yet. Matt says I should go into art, paint, write novels or poems. He "steals" some of the notes I left for him (a method I came about to let loose of the pressure, a form of outlet for the garbage cluttering my mind) and I find them to be verses in some of the songs he writes, but my Matt is biased, he beds me. I grin and resume the vegetable cutting. Many things happened from then to know and I almost relapsed, getting sick again, and I really don't want to dwell in that stupid angst anymore. Where is that insufferable man anyways, he's an hour late! He's been absent for four months going on tour in Asia. Although the TW's are getting a good name here in the States, they are practically gods in Asia, Japan more precisely.

I hear the rattling of a key in our front door lock; I quickly put the salad on the table wiping my hands with the tablecloth and rush to the living room. The door opens and there he is in all his blond glory and those piercing blue eyes go straight to my heart and I feel like I haven't truly drawn in a breath during those four months up until now. He puts his travel bag on the floor, his coat thrown over it and only has the time to straighten up before I have him in a crushing hug. His arms go around me and I bury my head in the crook of his neck, reacquainting myself with his sent. My Matt is home, and I won't be letting him out of my sight anytime soon.

"What's wrong?" his voice rumbles in his chest and I feel the reverberation against mine.

"Nothing."

"Really? Never had such a warm welcome before, maybe I should absent myself for months more often."

I raise my head and glare. He laughs…sigh…I'm in love. I snicker.

"Come eat and close the door." And I walk to the kitchen.

"What? That's it? No kisses? That's all? Hey!" I hear him whine from the lobby.

Nope, nothings wrong, all's right in the world when he's here with me.

END


End file.
